Never have I ever by Deborah Frances-White
Black Swan State Theatre Company
Heath Ledger Theatre, until 6th July
2 hour 10 minutes (including interval)

Watching Never Have I Ever brought back memories of a London dinner party I attended with the wealthy host pitting his unwitting guests against each other. It was like watching an aggressive tennis match – lob and volley of nasty comments over the dinner plates, all gleefully manipulated by the man we later nicknamed ‘the rich arsehole.’

The Brits have traditionally been good at divide and rule – you’re upper, middle or lower class depending on your schooling, birth and income. Deborah Frances-White, a celebrated Australian podcaster of The Guilty Feminist who lives in the UK (and flew into Perth for opening night) has clearly witnessed the ‘gladiatorial theatre sport’ (her description) of the dinner set. But in her debut play, the weaponry is updated  and no one is immune – one is judged as being too woke, too hetero, too rich and white, or too privileged and black. 

In a private restaurant gathering of four friends, they unsheathe all these weapons in a war that shatters friendships and marriage. My nervous response to the feud between Tobin (Will O’Mahoney), his wife Adaego (Ratidzo Mambo), their friend Jacq (Emily Rose Brennan) and her husband Kas (Deep Sroa) was that I might find myself stuck in another arsehole’s circus with no way out.  

It turned out to be unjustified fear. Once the foursome had limbered up, the performance revved along like a high-octane car. Under Black Swan’s artistic director Kate Champion, the two couples start out with brittle civility and end in alcohol-fuelled contest. 

The actors are perfectly cast and compete strongly for attention – O’Mahoney radiates rakish charm and sordid intent as Tobin, the hip banker who initially shrugs off the news that his major stake in his friends’ bistro has disappeared into bankruptcy. Mambo’s Adaego, Tobin’s much younger wife, is pert and indignant, and Brennan is all heart and hard work as failed restaurateur Jacq. 

The playwright skewers cultural trends that make for witty dialogue – Jacq’s restaurant is proudly ‘tweezer-free’, yet her unfussy bistro food has ended in failure. Tobin boasts that he altruistically declined the offer of a Ted talk slot on the basis that “it’s 15 minutes where a woman can be doing the talking”. Yea right. Dark-skinned Adaego smarts over being mistaken for a maid at a posh party yet discloses a ‘mile high’ sex encounter she had during her first-class plane flight. The banker’s wife proclaims wearily “I just don’t like money.”

Making his stage debut, Deep Sroa is impressive in the tricky role of Kas, a migrant who has habitually had to placate everyone around him. He declares Tobin to be “a bit of a knob” for proposing a ruthless transaction involving sex in return for his lost investment. That the other three, especially Jacq, even countenance the idea leaves one wondering if their moral compasses have spun off-kilter in a forcefield of bewildering grievances. 

This seems to be playwright Frances-Smith’s point – that the world has descended into a series of competing cults in which each side shouts the other down. Hardcore racism and homophobia are obvious and legitimate targets, but more trivial slights tend to polarise groups that should be united against far bigger threats. And persistent victimhood can be bad for you. 

These themes are hinted at by Kas – formerly eager-to-please, now livid – when he delivers his own impromptu Ted talk from a tabletop. Curiously the opening night audience broke into applause, as if his angry plea for commonsense was a welcome respite from serial point-scoring around identity politics.

The wordy scenes are dramatically punctuated by stage blackouts and shooting red flares from the cook tops that hint at flambe cooking, or arson perhaps? Designer Bryan Woltjen’s eye-catching set works brilliantly, a slick London eatery with expensive-looking fixtures and – visible below stage – an expansive wine cellar that doubles as a place for secret liaisons. 

Also notable is composer Rachel Dease’s mood-setting soundscape, including audio reworkings of compositions by Britney Spears, Black Eyed Peas and Alicia Keyes. Never Have I Ever’s themes of abuse of power and privilege aren’t everyone’s theatre fare, just like dinner parties. But this show is pacy, amusing and brilliantly performed.

Never Have I Ever continues until 6 July at Heath Ledger Theatre.

For more information or to book tickets, visit:
https://blackswantheatre.com.au/season-2025/never-have-i-ever